


Walt Whitman's Grave

by zillah37 (visionshadows)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 15,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visionshadows/pseuds/zillah37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I celebrate myself, and sing myself, and what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.</p>
<p>- Walt Whitman 'Song of Myself'</p>
<p>The hometown!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Living Room

**The Living Room**

 

Lance walked into the coffee shop on the corner, looking around. It was the middle of the day and it looked oddly deserted to him, no cars around, no people around. He started to wonder if it was even open because there wasn't anyone behind the counter. But the door was unlocked. 

He looked around. It was small and cozy with a bunch of mismatched furniture and a couple huge old couches around a fireplace. 

A tall man uncurled himself from the couch, tucking one of his long curls behind his ear. Lance watched him openly as he moved fluidly from the couch to behind the counter. 

"Hey," JC said, leaning on the counter. "What can I get you?" 

"Just a large coffee, please," said Lance, his voice soft and low in the quiet room. 

JC paused at the slow, syrupy accent. "Where're you from?" 

"Oh," Lance blushed a little, ducking his head. "Mississippi originally. Now I'm from down the street." 

JC chuckled and got him a mug of coffee, setting it in front of him. "Well welcome to Collingswood, Mississippi." 

Lance took the coffee, blushing under the gaze of the man standing across the counter. 

"Nice to meet you, Collingswood," Lance said, hopefully matching the other man's teasing tone. 

"Call me JC," JC said, walking out from behind the counter and grabbing a bottle of water. He sat back down on one of the couches, sliding the glasses that were perched on the top of his head back on. "You want me to call you something other than Mississippi?" 

Lance poured a bunch of half and half into his coffee, looking back over at JC. "You can call me Lance." 

"I guess I'll do that then, Laaance," JC gave him a little smile. "Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. This place doesn't get busy until the high schools let out." 

Lance sat down on the couch opposite JC, resting his coffee mug on his knee. JC had sprawled across the other couch, stretching out and toeing off the hot pink flip flops he wore. 

"You own this place?" 

JC actually started to laugh at that, holding his stomach as he did so. When he finally stopped he shook his head. "No. I just work here. It's close to home and it's not that stressful. I'm a writer." 

"Oh," Lance said, looking down at his coffee. "What kind of writer?" 

"The unemployed kind," said JC, closing his eyes and taking a drink from his bottle of water. "I'm a poet." 

"At least he fancies himself a poet," said another voice that was making it's way down hidden stairs. "Really he's a songwriter who's trapped in commercial hell." 

"I'd have to be selling songs to be trapped in commercial hell, Chris," JC replied, not even opening his eyes. "Get your own damn coffee." 

Chris wandered into the shop from upstairs, wearing a raggedy blue bathrobe and slippers. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed. Lance watched him with interest as he made his way behind the counter and got a cup of coffee, dropping a dollar on the counter for JC. 

"This is Laaance," said JC, gesturing with one fluid hand. "He's from Mississippi originally but now he's from down the street." 

"Why you gotta say shit like that?" asked Chris, sitting down on an armchair. Lance blushed when it was made abundantly clear that Chris wasn't wearing anything under the bathrobe. "I'm sure his name isn't Laaance. Just call him fucking Lance. Screw the extra A's that make you sound oh so dramatic." 

"Oh go to hell," JC finally opened one eye. "And close your fucking legs, man. I don't want to see that." 

"That's not what you said last night." 

"Dreaming about me again?" 

"Blow me." 

"You wish." 

"See you in a few hours. I have to work." 

"Ta-ta." 

Chris grinned at Lance as he got up and headed back upstairs. Lance had no clue what to say to that. 

"That's Chris by the way. He lives in the apartment upstairs and likes to spend as much time as possible bothering me," JC lifted his head enough to look at Lance. "He's a painter." 

"He seems...interesting." 

"He's just a ball of fun," JC looked up as someone came into the shop. "Scuse me." He got up, slipped his flip flops back on and walked over to the counter to take care of the girl. By the time he was finished making the mocha Lance had left. JC just shook his head and walked back over to the couch where his water, his book, and his glasses were.   
  
---


	2. The Basement

JC tossed his clothes in a pile on the floor, slipping into a pair of boxers and flopping onto the bed with a video game controller in his hand. Before he could start the game, there was a soft knock on the door.

"'Lo?"

"You decent, JC?" Kelly called out softly.

"Yeah. C'mon in, Kelly." JC sat up, putting the controller down.

Kelly opened the door with one hand, holding a laundry basket in the other. She made her way over to the washer and dryer to do laundry.

"You got anything that needs to be tossed in?" She asked, turning to look at him.

JC looked around the room at the piles of clothes everywhere. He shook his head and gave her a warm smile. "I'm good. Most of this is clean."

Kelly sighed a little, separating the clothes and putting them in the laundry. "So how's the job search going, JC?"

"Not looking for one, Kel. You know that."

Kelly slumped a little. "Don't you want more than this?"

"Want more than what?"

Kelly turned to look at him, leaning against the washing machine. "More than working at a coffee shop for minimum wage. More than living in the basement of your best friend's house. More than just doing nothing with your life."

"I'm not doing nothing with my life, Kel." JC gestured around the room, at the computer and the notebooks and instruments lying around. "I'm doing what I want to do and that's write."

"Well then why don't you try getting a job writing?"

"Why's this bothering you, Kel?"

"Because you've been living in our basement for two years now, JC," Kelly crossed her arms over his chest. "I'm getting tired of living like this. You should be tired of living like this too."

"Are you saying that you want me to leave?" JC's voice shook a little but he tried not to let Kelly see that it hurt.

"No," Kelly sighed softly. "You know we would never ask that. I just... _we_  just hate seeing you waste your life like this."

"It's not a waste to me," JC said softly, looking down at the comforter on his bed. It got cold in the basement at night. "I'm  _happy_ , Kelly."

"Okay, honey," Kelly said, deciding to let it drop for now. She walked over to JC and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Dinner'll be ready in about twenty minutes."

"I'll be up."

Kelly gave him another smile and walked out of the basement, leaving the laundry basket and shutting the door behind her. JC picked up the controller again and started to play a video game.


	3. Rittenhouse Square

 

>  
> 
> **Rittenhouse Square**

 

Chris stepped off the subway into the stale air of the Eighth and Market terminal, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He hefted his backpack and fixed his headphones before heading out into the streets. He climbed the spiral steps to the surface where he was greeted with traffic and noise and people everywhere.

As he walked through the streets heading to Rittenhouse Square, he listened to Ani DiFranco and glared at every guy that walked past him. He stopped and bought two hotdogs from a street vendor, squirting a ton of ketchup on one and mustard and relish on the other before heading back on his trek the seven or so blocks to get to the park.

Chris shrugged the headphones off when he got to the park, kneeling next to a homeless man sitting slumped on the ground.

"Hey, Jim."

The man looked up at Chris, seemingly woken from a slumber. "Chris. Hi."

Chris sat next to him, handing Jim the hot dog with mustard and relish. "Figured you'd want something to eat before I made you sit for hours on end for me."

Jim smiled and took the hot dog with dirty hands. "Wasn't sure if you were comin' today or not."

"I told you I was," Chris smiled and took out a pad of paper and some pencils. "Have I lied to you yet?"

Jim shook his head solemnly, eating the hot dog slowly as he shifted positions so he was sitting with his back propped up against the fountain. "You was later today."

Chris nodded as he sketched Jim in quick, broad strokes. "I know. I had to take care of some stuff back home. I was up most of the night finishing this graphics stuff I promised a company I would do. I had to drop it off to them this morning."

"Enough to pay your rent?"

Chris watched the other man move, wiping his mouth with a napkin that he shoved back into his pocket. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. That and the job I did last week covered it," Chris looked back at his notepad. "So you going to stay with me anytime this week?"

Jim lowered his head a little, picking through a bag for the book he'd been reading. "Maybe in a coupla days. I'm okay now."

"Here," Chris shoved the CD player towards Jim along with the CDs he had in his bag. "I brought your favourites."

A smile crossed Jim's face as he picked up the CDs, looking through them until he found the one he was looking for.

" _Rites of Passage_ ," Jim opened the CD player and took out _Not A Pretty Girl_ and put it carefully back in it's case. "This is my favourite one. Thank you for bringin' it."

Chris shrugged a little. "I know what you like, man. That's the one you always listen to when you're at my place."

Jim nodded a little, scratching behind his ear before putting on the headphones and pushing play. He leaned back against the fountain again and closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the music.

Chris let himself get lost in the art, ignoring the people walking by him and the sounds and smells of the city. Jim was one of his favourite subjects and he could spend hours just sitting here with Jim and sketching him. As the forms on the paper began to take softer shapes and less harsh lines, Chris knew that he was going to be up most of the night painting now.

And he was fine with that.  
  
---  
  
 


	4. Cigarette Ash

 

**Cigarette Ash**

 

Justin shuffled through the small apartment in a pair of jeans that were three sizes too big and a wifebeater. His wild mess of curls was held back by a bandanna and a cigarette was in his hand, ash dropping off as he walked.

He took a long drag of the cigarette, tapping it in an ashtray as he hovered next to the sofa briefly before heading into the other corner of the room.

Lance didn't even look up. Justin got like this every so often, so lost up in his own mind and what he was reading or working on that he just a shadow moving through the apartment at a snail's pace.

"What's he doing tonight?" asked Britney, flipping a page in the magazine she was reading.

"Something I can't make heads or tails of," Lance smiled, looking over at her. "In other words, his homework."

"Riemann integration," Justin mumbled before heading out of the room again, leaving Britney and Lance alone.

Britney made a face at that. "Just thinking about that makes my head hurt."

"He'll be back to normal in a few hours," Lance said absently, making a note in his book. "You know how he gets."

Britney nodded, standing up and stretching. "He'll be wiped out and I'll go to bed unsatisfied again."

Lance chuckled. "And I'll get a good nights sleep for once."

Britney whacked him lightly with the palm of her hand. "I'm going to make chicken for dinner. You okay with that?"

"It means I don't have to make dinner so I am totally okay with that."

"Always the lazy one," said Britney, shaking her head as she went into the small kitchen that was attached to their living room. "I went to that coffee shop you were telling me about before work this morning."

"Oh," said Lance curiously. "What did you think?"

"Some chick was behind the counter. She made a mean espresso though." Britney poked her head out of the kitchen. "No sign of your mystery poet."

"It's not like he's a real mystery, Brit. I know his name and where he works and what he does for a living," Lance shut his Islamic Mysticism textbook and walked into the kitchen to join her. "So who was the blonde chick?"

"Don't know," Britney shrugged as she tossed the chicken strips into the frying pan. "She had bright pink hair and more metal in her face than skin. Though she did have a really fucking awesome tattoo on her wrist and forearm."

"I bet the two of you made a pretty picture, her with her dyed hair and piercings and you in your three-piece suit and perfect highlights."

Britney bumped him with her hip. "You are such a bitch sometimes. Go finish your work."

"Yes, Mom."  
  
---  
  
 


	5. Hot Pink Pigtails

 

**Hot Pink Pigtails**

 

JC was sitting at one of the tables, straddling the chair and scribbling frantically. The coffee shop was relatively full but he wasn't working today. Christina was and she could handle this rush with no problem.

"This seat taken?"

JC lifted his head at the unfamiliar yet familiar all the same voice.

"Why hello, Laaance," JC drawled, gesturing at the open chair. "What brings you here?"

Lance set his bag down, before sitting down and straddling the chair himself.

"My roommates are having loud, obnoxious sex," Lance smiled at JC, taking in the hair that was falling out of a messy ponytail and the obvious scruff on his face. "There's nothing like getting home from a long day of classes and hearing that."

"I'm lucky," JC closed his notebook reluctantly. "My roommates are married and their bedroom is two floors away."

"I share a wall with Justin and Britney," Lance said ruefully, picking up his coffee and taking a sip before setting it down so it could cool off. "You make better coffee."

"Christina's kind of new," JC said as some sort of explanation. "But she's learning and she kicks ass. Plus she's my girlfriend."

Lance looked over at the girl with bright pink hair and facial piercings. "Doesn't look like she's your type."

"What's a type besides a way to limit yourself?"

Lance nodded a little, his eyes still on Christina. Somehow in his mind, he knew that JC and Christina were perfect for each other in the loosest sense of the word. She looked like JC talked; blunt and honest.

"Is that why you're here?" asked Lance, finally looking back at JC.

"To spend time with her?" Lance nodded.

JC shook his head and gave Lance a small, secretive smile. "I'm here because I write better here. Plus I always like to have a cup of coffee before I go to the cemetery."

"Cemetery?" Lance's eyes widened a little.

JC nodded, turning and pointing in the vague direction of Camden. "Walt Whitman's grave. I spend at least an hour there a day, usually more. Chris'll be down in about twenty minutes to join me."

"You're going to go to a grave," said Lance slowly. "And sit there."

JC nodded again, finishing his coffee. "Want to join us?"

"No," Lance shook his head. "I have issues with sitting in cemeteries for extended periods of time. Call me weird."

"Beats sitting in an apartment listening to people have loud, obnoxious sex," JC smirked a little, his expression bemused.

"I'll take your word for it," Lance reached for his bag, standing up. "I'll see you around, JC."

"Where do you live, Lance?" asked JC, reaching over and picking up Lance's coffee mug, sipping from it.

"Above the tuxedo shop."

JC nodded again. "Perhaps I'll see you there."

Lance looked at him again for a moment and then turned to leave.

Christina walked over to where JC was, sitting down across from him. "That him?"

JC nodded, finishing Lance's coffee. "That's him."

"He's cute, Jayce," said Christina, tightening one of the pigtails she was sporting. "I give you two whole-hearted thumbs up there."

JC smirked and gestured to the counter. "You have a customer."

Christina glared and stood up, stamping over to the counter. "Oh, what do _you_ want?"  
  
---  
  
 


	6. Dark

 

**Dark**

 

"That's exactly what I'm talking about, my dear Lance," Justin said, stubbing out a cigarette and reaching for another. "You don't make moves and when you do find someone you like, they're straight."

Lance rolled his eyes and looked around the dark, smoky room. "I don't understand why you like these places. They're disgusting."

Justin looked around, pausing in lighting his cigarette. "They're fantastic. The beer is cheap, no one bothers you, and I can hear myself think."

"You can always hear yourself think. You think very loudly."

Justin laughed and finished lighting his cigarette. "Now back to your situation."

"I don't have a situation."

Justin waved his hand dismissively. "You have a situation where you can make a choice to be strong and persuasive or you can be a wet blanket like usual."

"Justin!" Lance grabbed a cigarette from his angrily. "He's got a girlfriend. I don't think it's going to work out the way you seem to think it can work out."

"Girlfriends are just minor details."

"This is coming from the guy who's practically engaged to the girl he's been dating since he was sixteen."

"Pssh," Justin stubbed out another cigarette. "Britney and I are a totally different situation. Besides we're talking about the gay factor in this whole mysterious poet you've found."

"He's not that mysterious," Lance sighed, resting his palm against his forehead. "Why do you and Britney keep saying that?"

"He's mysterious to us."  
  
---  
  
 


	7. Shadowed Canvas

**Shadowed Canvas**

 

Chris finally stopped to breathe around 2 pm and he was amazed to see that the world was light and awake. Sometimes, Chris forgot that the world didn't stop when he went into a creative frenzy. 

Chris pushed back a lock of his hair, wiping a streak of green across his forehead and not caring in the least. He looked around the small apartment, at the bed in the corner where Jim was sleeping comfortably for the first time in days. Chris was just happy he had convinced the other man to come back with him yesterday when Jim had tried to hide the bruising around his eye. 

There was still music on and Chris tilted his head, trying to recognize it. After a moment, he placed that it was Rienzi Act II, scene 3. He smiled and closed his eyes briefly, glad that Jim seemed to understand what music he needed to listen to while painting. Wagner, and only Wagner.

Chris turned off the music and went to the refrigerator to try and find some food but there wasn't any, only a moldy loaf of bread and some cheese of questionable age. He was out of money and he couldn't tap MAC so he had no choice but to go downstairs and see if he could beg some food and coffee. If JC was working he wouldn't have a problem doing that. 

Chris shut the door to his apartment, not caring that he was wearing paint-splattered, ripped clothing and had dried streaks of paint on his face. It's not like JC hadn't seen it before. 

The place was pretty empty, a couple of people in one corner talking softly and someone playing with the jukebox. A moment later, David Gray began to play over the speakers softly and Chris nodded his approval. 

"Hey Chrissy," Chris said, sliding behind the counter and kissing her cheek lightly. She smiled and nuzzled his cheek briefly. "Can I grab some food?" 

"You out again?" asked Christina, stepping aside and letting Chris grab some food from the case. 

Chris nodded, setting a couple sandwiches on the counter and going to get some coffee. 

"I didn't realize I was out. I also brought Jim back with me yesterday and I like to keep him fed when he's with me," Chris put the coffee on the counter. "I'm broke again too, Chrissy." 

Christina sighed heavily and looked at the food and coffee on the counter. "Okay. I'll write it off somehow." 

"Thank you, baby," Chris kissed her cheek again, gathering the food in his arms. "Where's the boyfriend?" 

"Walt Whitman is talking to him today," Christina wiped off the counter before turning to clean off the espresso machine. "So he's at the grave." 

Chris watched as Lance walked in, looking around before dropping his bag on one of the couches, moving with a fluid grace that made Chris' throat go dry. He coughed and turned his attention back to Christina. 

"I thought he was working today." 

"Oh he is," Christina waved her hand around. "Don't you see him working?" 

"Wow. Bitter party of one," Chris managed to juggle the two mugs of coffee as he slipped from behind the counter. "I'll be back later. Tell C to come bug me when he gets back." 

"Will do," Christina leaned across the counter to smile at Lance who had ambled over, flashing a warm smile at Chris as he did. 

"You got paint in your hair again," Lance said, stopping to talk to him briefly. 

Chris shrugged as best he could. "You can be a bitch about my hair or you can help me carry this shit upstairs." 

Lance rolled his eyes. "I want a vanilla latte, Chrissy. I'll be back in a few minutes." 

"Got it," said Christina, turning to the espresso machine again. 

Lance took the two coffee's from him. "Two coffee's? Don't plan on coming down for awhile?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "I got company and it's only fair that I give him coffee as well. He needs it more than I do." 

"I wasn't aware you swung that way, Kirkpatrick," Lance raised an eyebrow as he followed him upstairs to the apartment on the left. The apartment on the right acted as the storage room for the coffee shop, hence the hallway smelled deliciously like coffee. 

"He's one of my subjects," said Chris, stopping before he opened the door. "And I don't like my subjects getting the shit beat out of them at homeless shelters because someone wanted their shoes, okay." 

Lance shrank back a little. "Okay. Sorry." 

"Just...don't treat him like shit. He's a good guy," said Chris softly, opening the door and heading inside, Lance following him closely. This was the first time he had brought Lance up to his apartment, the first time he felt like maybe Lance was a friend. 

Jim was still asleep on the bed, clean and wearing a pair of Chris' pajamas. Chris put the food in the refrigerator and went to find Lance who was standing in front of the fresh canvas he had been working on, his mouth open slightly as he held the coffee. 

Chris took the coffee from him. "That's part of the study I'm doing on Jim. It's a series for a show I'm trying to get into." 

Lance turned to look at Chris, his eyes wide and his face open. Chris swallowed a little because in the dim light of the apartment Lance looked beautiful, all shadows and highlights that made Chris want to drop the coffee and try to mix the shade of green Lance's eyes were. 

Instead he turned away and put the coffee on the counter. 

"Get out. I got work to do." 

Lance just nodded and walked out, brushing his palm against Chris' shoulder blades on the way but never saying a word. 

Chris shuddered in the silence of the room.   
  
---


	8. Scrubs

**Scrubs**

 

Joey walked down the sidewalk, his bag on his side and his coat pulled tight around himself in the cool air. Scrubs were never warm enough for him when he was outside but the hospital was nine million degrees most days so he appreciated them when he was there. 

Kelly used to get on his case when he first started working at Lourdes about walking home through Camden everyday but after a few months of it, she stopped asking him to take the car and instead would put mittens in his coat pockets even when it was warm. 

Joey stopped at the cemetery, leaning against the fence to look inside, his eyes automatically going to the grave that was hidden between some trees and up on a slight hill. He smiled when he saw it and just shook his head a little when he saw that JC was sitting next to it. 

There was an old, rusty gate that Joey knew opened without much trouble. He pushed on it and felt it give under his hand. He slipped into the cemetery and carefully picked his way through the headstones to the grave in the back. 

JC looked up when he heard the sounds of twigs snapping under someone's weight and when he saw it was Joey he gave him a warm smile. 

"What are you doing here?" asked JC, finally looking at the oversized yellow watch on his wrist. "Holy crap! It's six." 

Joey chuckled and sat down next to him, crossing his legs and setting his bag next to him. "How's Walt doing today?" 

JC smiled and patted the ground next to him. "Doing good. He and I were writing songs today." 

"If you ever get famous you're going to have to thank Walt every chance you get," Joey smiled back at him. "He's gotten you this far." 

JC looked up at the sky, breathing in the cool, crisp fall air. "It makes me wonder if we hadn't stumbled across his grave when we were ten if I would be who I am now. Maybe I would be a business man in a three-piece suit and boring short hair and no pink flip flops." 

Joey chuckled and looked at the flip flops JC had on. He wore them until it started snowing and Kelly practically shoved boots on him. 

"I think you never would have ended up like that, Walt Whitman's grave or not," Joey patted his shoulder. "You have an artistic spirit and there's no way you wouldn't have expressed it." 

"Are you happy with your life?" asked JC seriously, looking at Joey. The sun was setting behind them and it was growing colder. 

"I know it's not what you would have chosen but I am," said Joey seriously, knowing that JC just wanted to understand. "I love Kelly with all my heart and Brianna seriously made my life complete, Jace. I love my job. I feel like I'm actually doing something to help people. I own a house, a car. We even have a dog. I just feel. I feel like an adult and I like that." 

"You forgot one thing." 

Joey looked at him quizzically. "What did I forget?" 

"Best friend living in your basement and sponging off you as much as possible," JC gave him a small smile. "For which I am infinitely grateful and will thank you even before I thank Walt Whitman when I become famous." 

Joey leaned over and hugged JC tightly. "You know I'll never forget you." 

JC hugged him back, burying his face in the crook of Joey's neck, breathing in the warm scent of him that was unfortunately mixed with the medicinal smell of the hospital. He pulled back and kissed Joey's forehead. 

"We should probably head back home, huh?" 

Joey nodded and stood up, brushing leaves off his clothing before holding out his hand to JC. 

"Walt will still be here tomorrow. Kelly's making pork chops tonight." 

JC smiled and let Joey haul him up. He kissed the tips of his fingertips and pressed them against the grave before following Joey out of the cemetery and back home.   
  
---


	9. Three Piece Suit

**Three Piece Suit**

 

It had become a routine for her now, stopping in the morning at the coffee shop and chatting with the girl with the pink hair. Her name was Christina and she was utterly adorable and Britney loved getting to talk to her. 

They were usually alone in the morning because it was faster to stop at Wawa or Dunkin Donuts than at the Living Room where you could get an espresso shot along with your morning coffee. Britney started making the time though and both she and Christina grew to look forward to it. 

"Morning," said Britney, shutting the door behind her as she walked in. She set her briefcase on a table and took off her leather coat and scarf before walking over to the counter. 

Christina wiped her hands on a rag and leaned over the counter to kiss Britney's cheek, careful not to smudge Britney's perfect makeup. Britney kissed her cheek back, bringing up her hand to wipe away the lipstick mark she had made on Christina's pale skin. 

"You want your usual?" asked Christina, already walking over to the espresso machine. 

"That would be great," said Britney, smoothing her suit over her thighs. "You joining me this morning?" 

Christina turned a little and grinned. "Of course. I even stole a couple of extra banana nut muffins when I picked up the pastries from the bakery. They're warming in the oven." 

"You are such a little thief," Britney laughed, the slightly atonal sound filling the quiet room. "I love it." 

Christina wiped her hands on her cargo pants, sliding the mug of coffee and the shot of espresso over to Britney. "I'll meet you at the table in a moment." 

Britney sat down, crossing her legs and putting a napkin over her lap as she sipped her coffee, waiting for Christina.

Christina set two plates on the table, before sitting down across from Britney. She bowed her head and said some soft, whispered words of prayer before she broke off a bit of the muffin and popped it in her mouth. 

Britney broke off a bit of her muffin as well, chewing it carefully before she spoke again. "The one in your chin," she said, pointing at it. "Did it hurt?" 

Christina reached up and touched the labret piercing with one slim finger, her nails painted bright blue. She tapped it lightly before shaking her head. "Not really. It was really sore for a while afterwards though. That was the worst one in that sense but the eyebrow actually hurt the most when it was pierced." 

Britney shook her head a little, her perfectly curled hair bouncing as she moved. "I never could do that. I have zero pain threshold." 

"Would you want to do this?" asked Christina seriously, twisting the top off her bottle of apple juice. 

"No," said Britney honestly, knowing that was what the other woman wanted. "I'm just saying that even if I did want to do it, I couldn't." 

Christina smiled widely and leaned over the table to touch Britney's curls, brushing them back over her shoulder. "It looks really pretty like that. Sometimes I envy how you look." 

"Me?" Britney said questioningly, her hand resting on her breastbone. 

"You're so put together and perfect all the time. I guess I'm a little envious of the fact that you've made such a real life for yourself," Christina fiddled with her muffin, breaking off bits of it but not eating them. "You have a career and you're self-sufficient. I guess I want that someday." 

Britney looked at the younger woman with a soft smile on her face. Christina was only a year younger than she was, just barely 21, but with her pink hair done up in braids like she had it, she looked like she was just a kid. 

"You'll have that when you're ready," said Britney certainly, reaching out and tilting Christina's chin up with one perfectly manicured finger. "Right now you are doing what you want to do. Are you happy?" 

Christina nodded, her lower lip caught between two teeth. 

"Then that's what matters, darling," Britney caressed Christina's cheek gently before taking her hand back. "Would you honestly be happy working in an advertising agency and selling your soul daily to hock crap like fruit snacks and silly string?" 

Christina laughed at that and popped another bite of the muffin into her mouth. "Not one bit. I do like what I'm doing. I like working here and going to school at night. I like dating JC even though he's an incredible flake and will never grow up. I like knowing that I'm who I want to be." 

"And that is why you are going to be something special someday, Christina," Britney smiled, finished her muffin. She wiped her hands on her napkin before setting it on the table. "I have to head out. Are you working tomorrow?" 

Christina nodded, getting up and clearing their dishes. "I'm off this weekend so I'm pulling the day shift this whole week. JC's spending his time in the cemetery." 

Britney slipped her coat back on, tightening the scarf around her neck. "What does he do when it starts to snow?" 

"We make him wear a lot of clothes," Christina walked over to her and stood on her tiptoes to give Britney a quick hug and a peck on the lips. "See you tomorrow, Britney." 

"Bye, Christina," Britney caressed her cheek again before walking through the door and leaving Christina standing there touching her cheek with the tips of her fingers.   
  
---


	10. Discrete Mathematics vs. Art History

**Discrete Mathematics vs. Art History**

 

"You motherfucking son of a whore!" 

Lance lifted his head from his pillow, squinting with barely awake eyes at nothing but a blank wall by his head. Justin's voice was carrying from the living room it sounded like. He managed to turn his head and look at the clock. Britney had already left for work so this was his mess to deal with. 

"Fucking piece of motherfucking shit!" 

Lance heard a loud thump which suggested to him that Justin was either doing homework or studying for a test of some sort. That sounded like a math book. He staggered out of bed, pulling on a T-shirt over his head before heading towards the noise. 

Lance ducked as a notebook came flying in his direction. 

"Yo! Watch it, man!" 

Lance picked up the scattered books and carried them back over to where Justin was slumped on the table, his head cradled in his arms.

"Why don't you take a break from," Lance looked at the book. " _Art History_?" 

"Stupid, motherfucking liberal arts education where I have to take stupid motherfucking art history classes to make me a motherfucking rounded individual. Fuck them. Fuck them up their stupid asses." 

"All right," Lance patted Justin's back. "What do you say we get out of here for a bit?" 

"I have a motherfucking art history exam tonight," Justin turned his head and pouted at Lance. "Take it for me?" 

"What do I know about art history?" 

"More than me," Justin reached out to tug on Lance's arm with a petulant tone to his voice. "Don't you have to know like art history for religion or something?" 

"I'm not taking your art history exam for you," said Lance, his face deadpan. "Get dressed." 

"I am dressed," Justin said grumpily, plucking at his pajama bottoms with his thumb and forefinger. "See. I'm not naked." 

"Let's go get coffee." Lance stood up, waiting to see if Justin was going to move or not. 

Justin pouted up at him. "Can I meet either Mysterious Poet Boy or Girl with Pink Hair that's Macking on my Girlfriend?" 

"Of course," said Lance soothingly. "Maybe you can even meet Scary Painter Guy with the Weird Horned Goatee." 

"Okay," Justin sniffled before giving his Art History book another hard shove. "I'll go get dressed."   
  
---


	11. Plaid

**Plaid**

 

Justin let Lance lead the way to the coffee shop down the street from their apartment. He was decidedly pissy about his test in a class that he didn't care about but still had to do well in. 

"You could keep up with me," said Lance, turning to look at Justin as they stopped in front of the ancient hardware store. "Quit being such a bitch." 

"Not a bitch," Justin mumbled, catching up to Lance. He put on a huge, fake smile. "That better?" 

"Much," Lance rolled his eyes. "These are my friends. Sort of. Try and be a little bit pleasant." 

"I'll be my usual sunny self." 

Lance sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of." 

JC was sitting on the curb, a phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was speaking in hushed French, words murmured and mumbled so no one would be able to understand him. 

Lance ruffled JC's hair as he passed by, his fingers slipping easily through the soft strands. It earned him a small ghost of a smile from JC as he held open the door for Justin, following him inside. 

"Is that Mysterious Poet Boy?" whispered Justin. 

Lance rolled his eyes but nodded all the same. 

"Look what the cat dragged in," Chris crowed from behind the counter. "Did you even shower today?" 

"Did you?" Lance shot back. "Are you allowed back there?" 

"C is on the phone with his parents so I'm in charge," Chris said proudly. "What can I get you?" 

"Hmm" Lance drummed his fingers on the counter. "Oh yeah. This is my roommate Justin. And the freak wearing the plaid apron is Chris." 

"You making fun of my apron?" Chris pouted, holding the apron away from his body to look at it. 

"Of course not. And I want a vanilla latte," Lance turned to Justin. "What do you want, Jay?" 

"Hazelnut cappuccino," said Justin quietly before wandering over to the jukebox. 

"Two coffees coming right up." Chris turned to the pot behind him. 

Lance laughed. "You don't know how to work the espresso machine at all do you?" 

"Not a bit." 

Lance looked around and slipped behind the counter to join Chris. "I'll let you in on a little secret," he said, pressing his hand to the small of Chris' back. "I used to work at a coffee shop." 

Chris' breathing hitched when Lance touched him and didn't move away, instead resting there confidently. "So you know how to work this thing?" 

"Yup," Lance started to move away and Chris felt the change abruptly. It made him wonder when he started craving touches from Lance, touches that meant nothing to Lance to give but everything to Chris to receive. "I'll take care of it. Why don't you go talk to Justin?" 

Chris looked over at the man Lance had brought with him. His long, lean body was bent over the jukebox studying it with an intense concentration that wasn't needed to pick out a tune to play in the small room. His entire body language spoke of anger and tension. Chris wanted to stay with Lance who radiated calm but he nodded anyway. 

"Hey," said Chris softly. "Was JC speaking English or French?" 

"French I think," Lance said, looking at him as he took out the milk. "Why?" 

Chris just shook his head, taking off the apron and handing it to Lance who laughed but put it on anyway. 

"Hi," said Chris, rocking on his heels. "Whatcha looking for?" 

Justin turned a little to look at Chris. "Coal Miner's Daughter," A brief smile crossed his face. "But you seem to be seriously lacking in country music on this thing." 

Chris smiled back and shook his head. "Nope. I think JC has a rule not to keep any country music on the jukebox. Which is a little strange because some of the stuff he listens to would definitely be classified as country." 

Justin turned all the way around and leaned against the jukebox, his arms crossed over his chest. "You're a painter, right?" 

Chris nodded. "And a graphic designer which is what pays the bills." 

"Are you any good?" 

Chris crossed his arms in the same pose as Justin. "People seem to think I am." 

"Can I see?" 

"No," said Chris shortly. 

Justin pulled back a little, surprised. "Okay then. Why is Lance working the espresso machine?" 

"Cause I don't know how and you guys wanted drinks that need espresso and foam and shit. Can't you just drink regular coffee without all the fancy gadgets?" 

"Foam is a gadget now?" 

Chris raised one eyebrow. "It is in my world." 

JC walked back in, slamming the door behind him. "Rien de dieu baiser elle. Je n'ai pas besoin de leur merde! Je fais l'amende juste ici sur mes propres. Je suis fatigué d'eux m'indiquant que je suis une panne." 

"English, man," said Chris, forgetting about Justin and the foam argument and going over to JC, who was quivering with anger. 

JC brushed him off. "I'm going to the grave." 

And he just walked out.   
  
---


	12. Tweety Bird

**Tweety Bird**

 

"You're quiet," said Christina, trailing her fingertips down JC's chest. They were curled up in his bed in the basement of Joey and Kelly's house, listening to Sting and pretending that they didn't just have really phenomenal sex because remembering the sex always killed any conversation afterwards. 

JC smiled and kissed her nose lightly. "Just tired." 

"What are you thinking?" Christina propped herself up, her elbows resting against JC's chest. 

JC brushed back her hair, his fingertips playing lightly over the small tattoo of Tweety Bird on her shoulder. 

"I was thinking that we should go somewhere. Like on a trip." 

"Like where?" asked Christina, smiling happily. They did this a lot, daydreamed about what might be someday. 

"Paris," said JC, rolling them over so he was on top of her. "London. Anywhere you want to go. When I'm famous, I'll give you everything you've ever dreamed of." 

Christina laughed and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. "When you're famous we'll do everything we've always wanted to do. We'll travel and get a place to live and never serve coffee again in our lives." 

"Yes," JC growled and bit her collarbone lightly. "No more coffee." 

"We'll have someone else serve us coffee," Christina laughed and pounded lightly on his back with one of her small fists. "No biting!" 

"That's not what you said earlier," JC said, licking a path from her ear down her neck. "I believe earlier you were moaning and saying 'more, JC, more!' in a breathy voice." 

"Well that was different," Christina tilted her head to the side, closing her eyes and sighing happily. "That was sex." 

"This is sex too."   
  
---


	13. The Bar Scene

**The Bar Scene**

 

"Every story has a good bar scene," said Chris, holding up a shot of tequila and looking it at with blurry eyes. "I suppose our good bar scenes were used up years ago." 

"Speak for yourself," Joey said, holding up his own shot of tequila. "We have lots of good bar scenes left in us." 

"The new people don't even make our bar scene interesting," Chris pouted. "They're all drunk and falling over on themselves." 

Joey looked back at the table where Britney and Christina were giggling and being all cuddly with each other much to both JC and Justin's happiness. Lance was barely holding his head up as Kelly patted his shoulder and tried to grab her drink with the other. 

"I think the new people could make things interesting," said Joey, looking back at Chris. "JC talks about Lance all the time." 

"Yeah," Chris said dully, looking at the glass of clear liquid. "JC wants him. And he wants JC." 

"Too bad about Christina then." Joey shook his head even though they both knew that wouldn't stop JC. It hadn't in the past. 

"Dude, your wife looks green," Chris said, gesturing wildly in Kelly's direction with his shot glass. He needed to make Joey shut up and get away from him. 

"Fuck you're right," Joey tossed back his shot. "She can't drink like she used to before she had the baby." 

Chris watched as Joey headed over to rescue Kelly before she threw up everywhere. He turned back to the bar and did his shot, looking at the wall of liquor the whole time. 

"Mmm..." Lance slid onto the stool next to Chris, pressing up against him unconciously. "I'm drunk." 

"No shit," Chris shifted a little so he could look at Lance. "You gonna puke?" 

Lance shook his head and smiled at Chris. "JC's hot." 

Chris felt his insides clench and he motioned to the bartender to get him another shot. "Yeah he is." 

"You think he'd let me suck his dick?" asked Lance, lolling his head on Chris' shoulder. 

Chris bit his own lip hard, tasting blood. "Yeah. He and Christina are pretty open about stuff. Might as well ask him." 

"You're like the greatest, Chris," Lance lifted his head from Chris' shoulder, trying to look serious. "Like totally. You're smart and funny and you are so fucking honest sometimes it hurts. And you're beautiful." 

"Go ask him if you can suck his dick," said Chris softly, not wanting to hear that right now. 

"Mmmkay," Lance kissed Chris' cheek chastely. "You gonna be here?" 

Chris lifted the shot glass of clear liquid. "Yeah. This is my bar scene."   
  
---


	14. The Bar Scene Take Two

**The Bar Scene Take Two**

 

JC shifted in the booth, laughing a little as Christina licked Britney's neck. For some reason as interesting as it was to watch his girlfriend flirt with another girl it was bothering him tonight. Justin didn't seem too entirely thrilled with the whole thing as well, his eyes narrowed and his hand flicking ash from his cigarette roughly. The girls didn't seem to notice. 

"Okay, baby," said Joey, helping Kelly stand up. "Let's go take a walk." 

JC watched as Joey led Kelly back to the bathrooms. She was leaning on him heavily and Joey was trying to pull her hair back with an elastic he had around his wrist for just this purpose.

JC wanted that someday. Joey knew Kelly so well that he would carry around an elastic to tie her hair back in case she had to throw up. He wanted to know someone that well someday and in return, have someone know him that well. 

Britney tilted Christina's head towards her with one manicured finger and kissed her on the lips, their tongues sliding lewdly together for everyone to see. Justin's jaw clenched tighter and JC could see him visibly restraining himself. 

"Christina," said JC softly, reaching out to touch her arm. She turned to look at him, licking at her lips. "Knock it off, okay." 

"You wouldn't be saying that if Lance was over here flirting with you instead of flirting with Chris," said Christina petulantly as she moved away from Britney and back over to JC. 

JC put his arm around her possessively. "No. I think that I would still be saying that." 

Justin's arm had immediately shot out to pull Britney close and kiss her, reclaiming her as his own. She just laughed and pulled away, downing the rest of her drink before kissing him again, her hands fisted in his curls. 

Lance slid back into the booth, smiling at JC goopily, his eyes slightly glazed over from alcohol ingestion. 

JC smiled back, his grip on Christina tightening a little. 

"They get like that when they drink," said Lance, gesturing at Justin and Britney who had moved from just kissing to her straddling his lap and grinding on him. "They'll stop though." 

"It's okay," said JC a little uncomfortably. Lance was pressed up against his left side, Christina on his right. And he wasn't sure who's hand was on his inner thigh. 

Lance leaned in, his lips barely brushing against JC's ear as he whispered huskily, "Can I suck your dick?" 

JC started at that, his head swinging around to look at Lance with wide eyes, managing to catch Lance's forehead with his chin. 

"Fuck!" Lance cradled his head in his hands as JC held onto his own chin, tears welling up in his eyes from the collision. "I guess that's a no." 

Justin and Britney paused to look over at them, Justin's hand sliding up the back of Britney's shirt easily, stroking the skin there. 

JC looked at him in shock and shook his head slowly. "Not a no." 

Lance's eyes widened. "Really?" 

"Not a no. Just surprised." JC looked at Christina before leaning over and mumbling something in her ear. She looked at Lance than back at JC before mumbling something in return. 

"Okay. Out of the booth," said JC, nudging Lance. 

Lance scrambled out, followed by JC and then Christina. JC took Christina's hand and then motioned to Lance. 

"Let's get out of here." 

For some reason, Lance didn't question that Christina was with them and just let JC lead him out of the bar, stumbling over his own feet for the walk back to Joey and Kelly's. 

Chris watched from the bar, holding another shot between his fingertips. Lance turned and caught his gaze, Chris' dark eyes glittering in the light. Lance thought it looked like Chris was trying not to cry. 

When the door finally shut, blocking Lance from his view, Chris ran the back of his hand over his eyes and tossed the shot back, slamming the glass on the bar angrily.   
  
---


	15. Bare Skin

**Bare Skin**

 

Lance rolled over in the bed, his world tilted on the side and his head spinning. He struggled to open his eyes and regain some semblance of consciousness. He moaned softly and peeled one eye open. 

All it did was result in more confusion because he was somewhere he didn't recognize and he was pressed up against a cold, bare wall. There was someone moving against his back and he didn't want to turn around and see who it was. 

There was a murmured sound and the bed creaked on the other side of him. Someone climbed out of bed and padded out of the room. A moment later, an arm came across his waist and settled there. He felt metal brush his shoulder and he knew it was Christina. 

Lance froze when he realized that, trying to remember what had happened but he couldn't and he had to move before he threw up. He slipped out from under her arm into the chilly air of the basement. With trembling hands, he gathered his clothes, picking through the other clothing on the ground intermingled with his. 

"Lance," said JC softly. 

Lance stood up quickly, dropping all the clothing in a vain attempt to cover himself up. He could only imagine how stupid he looked with his hands cupping his dick right now. 

"You leaving?" asked JC, walking over to him, completely naked himself. Lance did his best not to look since JC's girlfriend was asleep in the bed not three feet away from them. And naked as well judging by the bra and panties on the ground. 

Lance nodded dumbly, bending down to pick up his clothing again. JC slid a hand along Lance's shoulders on his way back to the bed.

"Wish you would stay," JC yawned, climbing under the covers and wrapping his arms around Christina. 

"I have to go," Lance said, finally finding his voice. He got dressed as fast as he could, his hands shaking violently. "I'll. Um. Show myself out." 

"'Kay," JC murmured before falling back asleep. 

Lance fumbled around for his key but he couldn't find it in his coat. His eyes blurred with tears as he wandered down the street, trying to remember where he was and where he had left his key. He looked up and he was in front of The Living Room. 

Lance looked at the window he knew was Chris'. No lights were on but he couldn't think of anywhere else he could go. He didn't want to go home because Justin would yell about being woken up if he woke up at all. 

The door opened easily because when Chris was drunk he forgot to lock the outside door and Lance walked up the steps quickly. He knocked on Chris' door frantically, his body shivering in the cold night. He prayed that Chris wouldn't be that drunk and he would wake up. 

The door flung open and Chris stared at him, his eyes half-shut and bloodshot. Lance looked back, opening his mouth to say something but no words came out. 

Chris sighed heavily when he saw Lance standing there, his hair all mused and his pants on inside out. His shoes weren't tied and he looked like complete hell. 

Chris reached out for Lance's hand, taking it and leading him inside. Lance followed obediently, trying not to cry. Chris took off his coat and shoes and pants. He lifted his arms when Chris tugged off his sweater, leaving him in boxers, socks, and a T-shirt. 

Lance felt himself get pushed gently into the bed, sliding between crisp sheets that were warm and comfortable. He closed his eyes when he felt arms wrap around him from behind and he fell asleep listening to Chris breath.   
  
---


	16. Music

**Music**

 

"I celebrate myself, and sing myself, and what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass." 

"You do know that she has no idea what you're saying to her," said Kelly, walking by with a laundry basket in her arms. 

JC looked up from the ground where he was sitting with Brianna. He had his old, worn copy of _Song of Myself_ in his lap and Brianna was gurgling and spitting up on a brand new plastic teething ring. 

"She's listening to me," JC said, reaching out to wipe up the drool from Brianna's chin. "And that's what matters. She'll understand what it means one of these days." 

Kelly put the laundry basket down and sat on the ground next to them, picking up Brianna and cuddling her. Brianna laughed and waved the hand holding onto the plastic ring around. 

"I think it's more that she likes hearing your voice," said Kelly, looking back at JC as she held down Brianna's hand so she didn't whack her in the face. "She likes it when people pay attention to her. Just like her father." 

"Is he still singing to her every night?" asked JC, rubbing his hand along Nikita's back, who had gotten jealous about not being the center of attention and had run over when Kelly picked up Brianna. 

"Every night," said Kelly with a soft smile, setting Brianna between her legs and letting the baby wave the teething ring around again. "She loves it. He does too." 

"Joey could have really gone far," JC said a little sadly. "If only he hadn't given up." 

Kelly smoothed back Brianna's hair before looking at JC. "Not everyone can spend their lives acting like kids, JC. Joey's happy with his life and he's doing what he wants. He didn't give up on singing. He just did something else." 

"I'll never understand giving up on something you love as much as Joey loved to sing," JC shook his head. "It must kill him." 

"That's why you and him are such different people, JC. Joey never wanted to be famous like you. It's not in his heart," Kelly gestured at the house. "This is what he wants; a family." 

JC was quiet for a moment, watching Brianna wave the plastic ring around like it was the most amazing thing on earth.

"When I'm famous..." 

Kelly cut him off before he could finish. "Stop. I've heard it all before." She reached out to touch his cheek gently. "When you're famous you'll take good care of us and you'll write songs for Joey to sing so he can be famous too. You'll take Christina on crazy vacations and marry her. You'll make peace with your parents and maybe go visit them once in awhile. You'll stop spending all of your free time in a cemetery trying to figure out yourself. I know, JC. You say it all the time." 

"I have to believe in something." JC said quietly, his voice pained. 

"What would be so bad about _not_ being famous? About just being JC?" 

JC looked Kelly straight in the eye, his voice steady. 

"Would you want to be me?"   
  
---


	17. Diversion

**Diversion**

 

Lance walked out of the building where his class was and squinted in the sunlight even as he pulled his jacket around himself tighter. He looked at his watch, trying to remember if he was supposed to wait for Justin today or not so they could go to class together. 

"Lance."

Lance whirled around when he heard Chris' voice. "Um. Hey. What are you doing here?" 

Chris smirked and ambled over to him, his eyes purposely hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. "Walking." 

Lance smiled a little and shifted his bag. "Where are you walking to?" 

"Nowhere," Chris pulled his hands out of his pockets and reached over to snatch Lance's gloves. "My hands are freezing." 

"Why don't you take my gloves then?" Lance shook his head a little, stuffing his own hands into his pockets. "What brings you to Temple?" 

"I'm looking for new subjects. I decided I had to wander for a bit to find the right one." Chris pulled Lance's gloves on, wiggling his fingers around. "That's better." 

"New subjects? What happened to Jim?" 

Chris gestured for Lance to walk with him. "I got Jim into a halfway house. It's part of my deal with my subjects. If they sit for me, I'll find a place for them off the streets. That's why you'll never find me painting someone who's drug addicted or an alcoholic. I can't get them into shelters and I hate promising something I can't deliver on." 

Lance stopped walking and just stared at him. "How many people have you done this with?" 

"Eight," said Chris, rummaging in his pockets again. He pulled out a pack of gum. "Want some?" 

"Jesus, Chris," Lance shook his head. "You're fucking amazing you know that?" 

"Because I have gum? It's like fifty cents at Wawa, Bass. Anyone can buy it." 

Lance reached out and took a stick of gum. "What made you start doing that?" 

Chris shrugged and unwrapped a piece for himself, folding it and shoving it in his mouth before he said anything else. "I've been homeless. Someone gave me and my family a chance so I figure I have to give other people that chance as well. Like karma or something." 

"That's pretty cool," said Lance, unsure of how to address this topic now. "It's something I never would have thought of doing." 

"You grew up in suburbia, didn't you?" Chris was looking at him but Lance couldn't see his eyes as they walked down the street slowly. 

"Yeah," Lance felt almost guilty for that now. "Clinton's definitely suburbia." 

"I feel weird living in suburbia," admitted Chris. "Which is part of the reason why I spend so much time just walking around Philadelphia. It makes me feel more comfortable about who I am now." 

"What's wrong with who you are now?" 

"Oh nothing," Chris shook his head a little. "It's just really different than what I'm used to." 

"Where are you walking to today?" 

Chris looked up Broad Street and his eyes rested on City Hall. "I was thinking maybe Love Park. It's always amusing to watch the skateboarders in the winter." 

Lance bit his lip, deciding to fuck class. It's not like his roommate wasn't in the class as well. "You interested in having company?" 

Chris looked at him a little quizzically. "Don't you have class or something?" 

Lance waved his hand, extricating it from his pocket briefly. "I graduate in two months. I don't care about going to class," he shoved his hand back in his pocket. "Besides Justin's in that class too." 

"Then let's hope that he goes today," Chris laughed, swinging his arm around Lance's shoulders and accidentally slamming him in the side with his messenger bag. 

"Oof," Lance grimaced but just rubbed his side, not pushing Chris away. "Even if he doesn't, it's all good. I think spending time with you would be much more fun." 

"What class is it anyway?" 

Lance blushed and mumbled, "Bowling." 

"Wait a second," Chris stopped him. "Did you just say _bowling_?" 

Lance nodded mutely. 

"Okay. That fucking rules. I never got to take bowling in college," Chris was moving again and Lance had to scramble to follow him. "So like you just bowl?" 

Lance nodded. "We bowl. It's one of our stupid gen ed requirements. Have to take a phys ed class." 

"Okay. Temple fucking rules for that, man," Chris turned and pointed at one of the buildings which was actually not a Temple building, instead a run-down office building next to it. 

"Sure, Chris," Lance shrugged. "Whatever you say." 

"No it's not whatever I say," Chris rolled his eyes. "We all know that I'm right the majority of the time but you don't always have to agree with me." 

"Chris," Lance shook his head. "You're rarely right." 

"Bah," Chris waved one hand, the other still holding onto Lance. "I'm always right. You and the rest of the world just don't understand the genius that is me." 

"If I understood I think I would be very frightened," said Lance, slipping his own arm around Chris' waist. "I think I like you being all obtuse and hard to get." 

"I'm not really that obtuse," Chris mumbled, looking down at the ground as they walked. "You just have to know which way to look so you can see me." 

Lance didn't know what to say so he just rubbed Chris' side gently, stopping at a red light. "We should get coffee." 

Chris laughed and looked at him. For a brief moment Lance thought he could see Chris behind the sunglasses. 

"Coffee sounds great."   
  
---


	18. Diversion Part Two

**Diversion Part Two**

 

"Why religion?" asked Chris as he stripped off the layers of clothing he was wearing, leaving them in a pile on the seat next to him. 

Lance carefully slung his coat over the back of his chair, rubbing his hands together, wishing that Chris had his own gloves. 

"What do you mean, why religion?" Lance asked, relenting when Chris took his hands between his own, rubbing them to warm them up. 

"You study religion, right?" Lance nodded. "What made you decide on that?" 

"It's a fascinating topic," said Lance, flexing his fingers in Chris' hands. "Religion is what pushes politics, the economy, and society as a whole. It's really the basis for everything and by understanding that, I have a better basis for understanding the rest of the stuff." 

Lance looked up at the waiter who had ambled over, a thin man with tattoos on his arms and a labret piercing. He was kind of cute actually and probably new because Lance hadn't seen him here before and he came here a lot. 

"I'm AJ," said the man, leaning over a little to talk to them a little more intimately. His voice was gruff but he lisped at the same time. "You two ready to order?" 

"We should feel guilty getting coffee here," Chris grinned at Lance. "So I'll go with a chai tea and a slice of chocolate cake. Don't skimp on the icing." 

Lance laughed, flexing his fingers again. "I'll have an Earl Grey tea." 

"You're going to eat my cake aren't you, Bass?" 

Lance smirked. "There's a distinct possibility I might eat your cake." 

"Okay," said AJ. "Chai tea, Earl Grey tea. And a slice of chocolate cake with two forks." 

Chris didn't argue instead winking a little at AJ. He rubbed Lance's hands once more before letting go and sitting back. 

"What do you plan to do when you graduate?" asked Chris, wondering how he'd known Lance for almost six months now and never asked him these questions. That wasn't like him. 

"I don't know yet," admitted Lance, rubbing his hands against his thighs before resting his elbows on the table and gazing at Chris. "Obviously a religion degree isn't exactly the first thing people look for. I have a solid background in business as well so what I want to do personally is get into international relations." 

Chris whistled lowly. "Sounds like you got plans, Bass." 

"I do," Lance agreed. "I'm not going to let my education go to waste." 

Chris looked at him for a moment before letting his gaze wander to the other people in the coffee shop. 

"JC's got a degree in English. I've got a degree in graphic design," Chris looked back at Lance. "Do you think we're wasting our degrees?" 

"No," said Lance quickly. "Both of you are doing what is right for you. And you still do a lot of graphic design work, Chris. And JC, well, he does proofreading stuff sometimes, right?" 

"Not in a long time. He still says he does but for the most part he doesn't take on any new work." 

"But he's happy," Lance said quietly, watching as AJ made his way over with their drinks and cake. "And that's what matters." 

Chris didn't answer that as AJ set their drinks down, smiling widely and giving Chris a little wink, openly flirting with him in front of Lance. For some reason watching that made Lance shift uncomfortably in his chair and ache to kiss Chris just so AJ would stop flirting with him. But that wasn't fair. Chris wasn't his. 

"It's been a couple of months now," said Chris quietly, picking up his gigantic mug of tea. "What happened that night?" 

Lance didn't have to ask him which night he meant. There was only one night that could be that night between the two of them. 

"Um. Just. Sex." 

"I gathered that part. Why did it upset you so much? Didn't you get what you wanted out of it?" 

Lance shook his head mutely, sipping his scalding tea. He hissed and put it back down, looking at Chris briefly before looking down. 

"It wasn't anything like what I wanted," said Lance softly. "They've wanted to do it again but. I. can't. It's not right for me to do that." 

Chris nodded a little, understanding. "They've been together since she was eighteen and he was twenty-three. The first time I met Christina, I thought that she would be a quick fling like everything else JC had. But she stuck around despite all of JC's crazy shit." 

"We're okay. I mean, the three of us. We're okay. We talked about it and it was just something that happened and we're all okay with it," Lance said, his words rushed. "It's not going to happen again." 

"You still want him like that?" 

Lance met Chris' gaze and shook his head, his lips pressed together tightly in a thin line. Chris just gave him a sad, little smile in return, knowing how it felt to let go of someone. 

"You're young," said Chris. "You'll find someone better than JC." 

Lance nodded slowly. He sipped his tea, glad it had cooled a little bit. "Too bad you're not gay. You'd be perfect." 

And even though the door was opened wide, Chris couldn't walk through.   
  
---


	19. Leather Jacket

**Leather Jacket**

 

Lance was stretched out on one of the couches, not caring that he was taking up so much room. He was tired. It had been a really long day and he just wanted to rest but he didn't feel like being at home. 

JC was actually helping customers, flirting and smiling at them as he made coffee and mochas and tea. Justin was still in class until late tonight. And Chris was grocery shopping for him and his new subject, a thirteen year-old girl named Meghan who he was going to bring home with him until he could find a place for her. 

"We need music, Lance," JC called from behind the counter. "Put on some Dylan." 

"How much?" Lance sat up and caught the key JC tossed in his direction. 

"Like half an hour for now." 

Lance shuffled over to the jukebox, turning the key and programming in about an half hour of Dylan. He pocketed the key and headed back to the couch as 'Desolation Row' began to play. 

Lance flopped back down on the couch, closing his eyes. A moment later, someone lifted his legs. 

"You play this one cause I hate it," JC made a face, resting Lance's legs back on his lap. 

"Chris isn't here. I have to get my amusement from somewhere," Lance grinned, pressing his foot into JC's thigh. JC yelped and smacked his leg. "Like that. That was amusing for me." 

"You're a pain in my ass." 

Lance laughed, throwing his head back. "No. I don't think so. Far from it actually." 

"Yeah, yeah," JC rolled his eyes and looked up when the door opened. He sighed heavily, not in the mood to have to work. 

A tall man wearing a leather bomber jacket and carrying a duffel bag walked in. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his sharp features stood out as he looked around, obviously confused. 

JC stood up, pushing Lance's legs off his lap. "Can I help you?" 

The man turned to look at him. "I'm looking for Chris Kirkpatrick. This is the address I have for him..." 

JC was already nodding, gesturing upstairs. "He lives here. He's out at the moment. When's he gonna be back, Lance?" 

Lance sat up again and stretched, resting his arms on the back of the couch and looking over at the two of them. "He went grocery shopping. He'll probably be back in like fifteen, twenty minutes." 

"You're welcome to hang out here until he gets back," said JC. "I won't even pressure you to buy something." 

The man smiled a little and set his bag down on one of the tables. "I could actually go for a cup of coffee." 

"All right," JC grinned and headed behind the counter. "You hungry?" 

The man actually laughed as he handed JC a dollar. "Just the coffee. Thanks." 

JC handed him the mug. "Half and half, milk, sugar and all that jazz is over there." 

"Thank you," said the man, taking the mug from him. 

JC watched him for a second before heading back over to Lance and sitting down. "Want to come with me to the grave later on?" 

Lance rolled his eyes. "I don't do cemeteries. Remember?" 

"You are so boring," JC leaned in. "Did you catch his accent? Gorgeous."

Lance shrugged a little. "You ever met him before?" 

JC shook his head as he sat back. Before he could say anything else, the door opened again and Chris walked in, carrying a bunch of bags. 

"Okay. I suck at shopping. I mean what do kids eat these days?" Chris stopped dead in his tracks, one of the bags dropping to the ground. 

The man in the leather jacket stood up slowly and looked at him. "Hi, Chris." 

"Kevin?" Chris managed to choke out. 

JC's hand flew to his mouth in surprise when he heard the man's name. Lance just looked confused. 

"What the fuck are you doing here, Kevin?" 

Kevin walked over to Chris slowly, taking the bags out of his hands and setting them on the ground. 

"I'm in town for a few days. I thought I would drop by," Kevin reached up and brushed back a bit of Chris' hair. "Looks good. Though I was partial to the braids." 

"You fucker," Chris mumbled before wrapping his arms around Kevin's neck and kissing him deeply. 

That was about when Lance stopped breathing.   
  
---


	20. After the Fall

**After the Fall**

 

It was only after Kevin and Chris went upstairs, forgetting about the groceries sitting on the ground and Kevin's bag on the table, did Lance remember that he had to breath to live. 

JC was putting the groceries in the refrigerated case so the milk and stuff wouldn't spoil. He'd already moved Kevin's bag behind the counter as well. Bob Dylan was still playing and that was the only sound in the room. 

"Who's Kevin?" Lance finally asked. 

JC paused with a gallon of milk in his hand. "He never told you?" 

"Would I be asking if he had told me?" 

JC shook his head, putting the milk in the case. "Probably not. Kevin's his ex-boyfriend. From like when he was 21 or 22. A long time ago." 

"So Chris _is_ gay?" Lance asked, his voice soft. 

"No. Yes," JC made a face. "Let's just say Chris dabbles in the gay arts." 

"Dabbles in the gay arts?" Lance looked at JC like he was insane. "You make it sound like Chris is into Satanism. He's not really a Satanist. He just dabbles in the black arts." 

JC rolled his eyes. "Forgive me for trying to be amusing. Chris dates who he wants to date. If you want to put a label on it, he's bi." 

Lance flopped backwards on the couch. "I'm a fucking moron." 

"Why are you a moron?" JC walked over to him, holding a cup of coffee and sipping it gingerly. For some reason he needed some today which was odd. He rarely drank coffee anymore. 

"I didn't know Chris was gay!" 

"Chris isn't gay." 

Lance groaned and threw a pillow at JC who managed to duck. "I didn't know that Chris liked guys." 

"Why?" JC sat down in a big armchair, throwing his legs over the arm. "You into Chris?" 

"Maybe," Lance mumbled, his arm thrown over his face. 

JC paused. "Seriously?" 

"I like him, okay," Lance looked over at JC, moving his arm out of the way. "I like him a lot. He's smart and funny and sweet and he makes me laugh and I can just spend hours with him and everything feels right." 

"So go for him," JC leaned over and put the coffee mug on the table, picking up his notebook instead and scribbling in it. "Chris is all about you, man." 

"The fuck?" Lance looked at JC like he was insane yet again.

"Have you been in his bedroom?" asked JC, looking at Lance. 

"He sleeps in the living room so yeah, I have been," Lance rolled his eyes. "What kind of stupid question is that?" 

"No," JC shook his head. "His actual bedroom. Where he stores the art."

Lance pursed his lips and then nodded slowly. "He showed me a few weeks ago." 

"I've known Chris for about five years now and I've never been in that room. Neither has Joey, Kelly, Christina, or any people he's friends with." 

"So?" Lance said softly even though he knew the point JC was trying to make. 

JC shook his head. "You gotta figure this one out on your own, man. Just don't take for-fucking-ever." 

Lance sat up and grabbed his backpack. "I'm going home. I'll catch you tomorrow sometime." 

"I'm off tomorrow so give me a call at home," said JC absently, his concentration almost completely focused on what he was writing. 

Lance watched him for a moment before looking up at the ceiling and sighing heavily. He walked out into the cool air and headed home.   
  
---


	21. Pin Ups

**Pin Ups**

 

Lance walked into the coffee shop, not surprised to see it basically empty. However he was surprised to see that JC, Christina, and Brian, the night guy were all there. There were two guys, one blonde and one dark, talking to Brian off to the side, laughing about something. He had seen them, Nick and Howie, before at the open mic nights the coffee shop had ever Saturday and Sunday night. 

"Hey," said Lance, sitting down on the couch across from JC and Christina. He wrinkled his forehead as he watched Christina carefully paint JC's toenails bright red. 

"Hey, Lance," JC smiled brightly, wiggling his finished foot carefully before sticking it in Lance's direction. "You like?" 

"I guess it's warm enough to wear the flip flops again?" 

Christina laughed, nodding. "And of course that means I have to paint his toenails as often as possible." 

"You are a complete freak, JC," said Lance, shaking his head. "Chris home?" 

JC nodded, bending his leg and bringing it up close to his face to inspect it as well. Lance made a face at the weird, contortionist position JC got himself in to. 

"He's painting, I think. Meghan's at school or something so I know he's alone." 

Lance nodded, happy about that. Chris' new subject, Meghan, was living with him now and he had enrolled her at the local high school until social services told him what they were going to do with her permanently. But that meant that Chris was never really alone anymore and he missed getting to show up at Chris' late at night to watch him paint for hours while he did his homework. 

"Watch my stuff for me," said Lance, standing up and stretching. "I'll be back in a bit." 

Christina whacked JC's thigh. "Stop moving so much." She grabbed his foot roughly to hold it in place. 

"Ow," JC pouted and looked over at Lance. "Will do. See you." 

Lance pushed open the door on the shop side to the steps that led to Chris' apartment. He shut the door and started up the steps, listening to the sounds of Wagner pour out of Chris' apartment. He was definitely painting. 

Lance knew that it would be okay with Chris to interrupt and when he knocked at the door he heard scuffling and then the music stopped. 

Chris opened the door a moment later and smiled. "Hey. I kind of figured it was you." 

Chris turned and walked back inside, back over to the easel. Lance shut the door and walked over as well, looking at the painting. 

Meghan's face was hidden in the shadows of a stairwell, one arm bent and resting on her knees. Her eyes, however, were turned towards them, open and scared. In the crook of her arm was a worn stuffed animal, one eye missing. Lance shivered as he stared at the expression in her eyes.

Lance knew that Chris wasn't nearly finished because most of the picture was still in half-tones and barely sketched out but Meghan was vivid and beautifully painted. He smiled and looked at Chris' expectant face. 

"It's beautiful." 

Chris' face relaxed and he stepped back, patting Lance's shoulder as he brushed past him. 

"You hungry? I have some old Valentine's Day candy." 

Lance watched him rummage in a drawer and pull out a handful of brightly wrapped chocolate hearts. He dropped them on the small table and patted the couch, telling Lance to join him. 

"How were your classes?" asked Chris, unwrapping a heart and popping it in his mouth, his leg bouncing nervously. 

Lance knew that Chris would be polite and wouldn't kick him out but he knew that Chris wanted to be painting so he was going to keep it short. 

"Not bad. I had a quiz in my Advanced Hebrew class," Lance picked up a candy heart and looked at it before unwrapping it and popping the chocolate in his mouth. "I did okay but I know I messed up on one of the translations." 

"Good, good," Chris looked longingly over at the canvas. "You busy tonight?" 

Lance shook his head. "You want to come over to watch Buffy?" 

Chris nodded, his leg bouncing even more. "I need to find a new subject and I think I need to get away from the apartment a bit. Can I bring Meghan?" 

"Of course," said Lance. "How come you need a new subject?" 

"That's going to be the only one of Meghan. I need someone else." Chris said, studying Lance's face the whole time, his eyes sweeping over the curved cheek and the arched eyebrows. 

Lance quirked his mouth into a small smile. "How come you've never painted your friends?" 

"JC can't sit still that long. Joey says it makes him feel funny when I stare at him for a long time. Kelly's too busy with the baby and they don't want the baby to be a subject. Christina changes too quickly for me to be able to paint her." 

Lance took another heart and took a bite, looking back at Chris. "You could always paint me." 

Chris swallowed thickly because he already was but the canvases were hidden and he never wanted to show them to anyone because they were his and they were private. 

"Maybe I will," said Chris nonchalantly, watching the way Lance swallowed and licked at his lips. "I need to get back to work." 

Lance finished off the heart. "Thanks for the chocolate. I'll see you tonight around 7. I think Britney is making lasagna." 

"Okay," said Chris, getting up and walking over to the door, holding it open for Lance. "Meghan and I will be there." 

Lance smiled at him once more, his hand brushing along Chris' arm on his way out. Chris shut the door, pressing his back to it and closing his eyes tightly. Lance stood on the other side of it, his hand touching the wood for a moment until he heard the opera start again, Pavarotti's voice filling the hall, and he walked away.   
  
---


	22. The Bar Scene Take Three

**The Bar Scene Take Three**

 

Justin rested a hand on Chris' back, leaning over him to talk to the bartender. "Can I get a white wine and a lager?" 

The bartender nodded and Justin leaned against the bar to smile at Chris. "Hey, man. You coming back to the table?" 

Chris nodded, stealing a brief look over to the table where everyone else was. "In a few minutes." 

"Cool," said Justin, pausing for a moment and studying Chris, trying to decide whether he should say something or not. "All you have to do is say something to him." 

Chris looked at Justin, his eyes dark and glittering. "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

Justin sighed and nodded, paying the bartender and taking the drinks. "You do." He didn't say anything else though, just headed back to the table. 

Chris watched as Justin kissed Britney lightly, putting the glass of wine in front of her and grabbing his pack of cigarettes to light one. He could see them laughing at the table and Christina and Kelly were telling some story. Lance was kind of staring off into space nursing the same beer he'd been drinking for the past hour. 

Chris sighed and looked down at his own glass that he'd been reluctantly drinking. There was a shot next to him that was untouched. He lifted it up, looking at the amber liquid, Southern Comfort tonight, studying the way the light was refracted through the glass. He tipped it back, drinking it down. 

It was time to go back to the table. 

JC laughed at something that Joey had said, picking up his drink and looking over at Lance for his reaction but there was none. He was staring at the line of Chris' back as he was hunched over the bar. 

JC sighed and pushed his glasses up to rest on his head before he put his hand on Lance's shoulder. "Say something to him." 

Lance looked over at him, startled. He shook his head and looked back at his beer, taking a drink. 

"I'm going to go get some air." 

The others watched Lance get up, slip the leather jacket on and walk out of the bar. Chris saw it too and he fought with himself over whether to follow or not. 

Instead he got up and walked over to the table, sliding into the seat next to Kelly and kissing her cheek lightly, throwing an arm over her shoulder. Joey mock growled and Chris growled back jokingly. 

"Hands off my wife," Joey said, reaching over and batting at Chris' hand. 

"No way, man. She's mine. Go on, Kel. Tell him."

Kelly laughed and tweaked Chris' nose. "Sorry, Kirkpatrick but you're not my type." 

Chris clutched at his heart, slumping back. "Rejected, tossed aside for your husband. I'm hurt." 

"What was it you said to me that one time," said Joey. "That every story needs a good bar scene?" 

Chris nodded, his heart clenching a little. Joey saying that brought that night back, a night he wanted to forget for the most part. 

"Every story needs a bar scene," said Chris, gesturing at the bar. "This is our bar and this is our scene in the story." 

"What story?" asked Christina. 

"The story of us," Chris shrugged. "I don't know. Doesn't anyone else think that maybe there's someone watching us and writing what we're doing? Maybe someone is hoping this will turn into a good bar scene." 

"You've definitely had too much to drink," Kelly laughed. "No more for you." 

Chris smiled wanly and just nodded.   
  
---


	23. The Dock

**The Dock**

 

Lance looked up when the door to the bar opened and he flinched a little when he saw that it was Chris. He dropped the cigarette he stole from Justin's pack to the ground, stubbing it out. 

Chris saw him and headed over to where Lance was leaning against the wall. Lance straightened up and gave him a tight smile, trying to get past him. 

Chris grabbed his arm. "Wait. Please." 

Lance stopped, looking at him, their bodies close together, faces inches away. He could feel Chris' breath on his face. 

"We need to talk." 

Lance nodded a little, relaxing. 

Chris let go of his arm. "Let's walk." 

"Shouldn't we tell everyone we're leaving?" asked Lance, gesturing back to the bar. 

Chris shook his head. "They'll figure it out." 

"Okay," said Lance, shrugging. He checked if he had his keys and his wallet which he did so wherever Chris wanted to go, he was fine. "Where are we going?" 

"You'll see." 

Lance rolled his eyes at the cryptic answer. "How's Meghan?" 

Chris smiled a little, pausing to cross the street. "She's good. She's staying at a friend's house tonight so I could go out. It's amazing how quickly she got assimilated into the high school environment again." 

"So is she staying with you for good?" 

Chris shook his head, pointing to Lance where to go. "Just until the end of this school year. She's going to be placed with foster parents in June. But I get her for the next three months." 

"She's lucky to have met you," said Lance, brushing his hand against Chris'. A moment later, to his surprise, he felt Chris' fingers close around his own as they walked. 

It was late and it was dark as they walked through the back streets until they came to a long, winding road. 

Lance squinted a little. "I have no idea where I am." 

"I won't let you get lost." 

They didn't say anything for awhile after that, walking through a residential neighborhood, holding hands still. Lance was confused and wanted to ask Chris what he was doing but for some reason the silence was overwhelming and he kept his lips pressed tightly together to prevent words from leaking out. 

"That's Christina's house," said Chris, pointing at a small house on the corner of a street Lance didn't recognize. "I don't know if you've ever been there or not."

Lance shook his head and didn't say a word as he looked at the quiet house. He recognized Christina's car in the driveway and he wondered which window was hers. 

"You cold?" 

Lance turned to look at Chris again as they walked and he shook his head. "I'm okay," he spoke, surprised the words came. "You?" 

"Fine." Chris smiled at him, leading him down a street that dead-ended to the woods. 

"Um. Chris?" Lance looked around. "You bringing me to the woods to kill me or something?" 

Chris laughed, squeezing Lance's hand. "Hardly. It's not really woods. Once we get through this little patch we're at the river."

Lance looked a little surprised. "Cooper River?" 

Chris nodded and pulled Lance into a small opening between the trees. "It's steep. Be careful. And there's a huge hole in the middle of the path so stay to the side." 

It was dark and Lance could barely see where he was going. He just followed Chris, holding on tightly and hoping that Chris had some unknown power to see in the dark. 

A moment later the trees broke again and opened into a field. Lance could see the water and the lights from the buildings across the way. When he looked to the left he could see the lights of Philadelphia, Independence Hall lit up in red, white, and blue.

Even though there was light all around, when Lance looked up the sky was filled with stars and he stopped to look, surprised to see the sky like this. In Philadelphia and Southern Jersey, at least where he was, there wasn't open sky to look at the stars and they were always blocked out by the lights. This reminded him of home. 

Chris let go of his hand and Lance looked at him, surprised. "It's booby-trapped," he said as an explanation, pointing. He began to remove rope that was strung across another little path near the edge of the water. He caught himself on a thorn and cursed. 

Lance took his hand, looked at the small scratch and brushed his thumb across it lightly before kissing the spot, his eyes focused on Chris' eyes at the same time.

Chris coughed and turned back, pushing aside the branches. "C'mon." He ducked and carefully made his way down to the cement dock that sat hidden by the thicket of bushes. 

Lance followed him and smiled when he saw that they were on the water. In the darkness it looked beautiful, the moon and stars reflected on the rippling surface. He looked over at Chris who was also looking out at the water.

Lance took Chris' hand again, pulling him a little closer. "How'd you find this place?" 

Chris smiled and moved closer willingly. "Christina. Apparently she and her friends used to come here in high school. She brought JC here on their first date and he fell in love with it. When the grave isn't talking and he still needs to write in nature, he comes here." 

"It's nice. Quiet. Secluded." Lance kept his eyes locked on Chris' as he spoke. Chris, to his credit, didn't break the gaze like usual even though he shifted uncomfortably. 

"I need to say something," said Chris, letting go of Lance's hand and climbing up on one of the cement ledges, pacing along it. "And don't interrupt me, okay." 

"Okay." 

Chris scowled a little at the smile on Lance's face. "That counts as interrupting." 

Lance didn't say anything, just sat down on the dock, stretching his legs out in front of him, waiting patiently. 

Chris sighed and looked up at the sky, gathering his courage. 

"I like you, Bass. I like you a lot and I would kill to get a chance with you. But I'm no good for you. I'm too old for you and I'm a terrible boyfriend. I don't have a steady job. I don't do any of the romantic relationship stuff. I sleep weird hours and paint to loud German operas at 3 am. I can't cook and I never clean. Most of my clothes have paint all over them and I wouldn't know tact if it hit me in the face. I snore when I do sleep and steal blankets and kick. I suck at communication and am horrible when I get introduced to the family. I bring home random people and let them sleep in my bed all the time. I wander around the city at odd hours and never remember to call..." 

Chris was cut off by Lance, holding a finger to his lips and shaking his head. Lance didn't say anything to him, just stared at him with those wide, innocent eyes that he could never read. 

Chris closed his eyes when Lance folded his mouth over Chris', breathing him in. He felt Lance's arms wrap around his waist and his own arms came up to rest on Lance's shoulders as he felt himself fall into the kiss, his mind a swirl of relief and worry. 

Lance pulled back and looked at him. "I know all of that stuff already, Chris, and I'm still here. That's what makes you you and that's what I like. So just shut up already and let this happen." 

Chris mock scowled at him but couldn't hold it, his face dissolving into a soft smile. "Really?" 

"Really," said Lance, leaning in and kissing him again, his arms tightening around Chris' waist and holding him close. 

Chris let it happen. 

 

**The End**  
  
---  
  
 


End file.
